


Genus

by Gabri



Category: Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Dysphoria, M/M, Spider!Peter, Transformation, inhuman behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:02:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabri/pseuds/Gabri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently some weirdos felt 'entitled' to the new species, which was said to be a 'valuable key in solving the riddle of mankind's shortcomings.' Whatever. Wade was promised a million bucks for a spider and now all he had was some freaky kid who kept scaling the walls and couldn't even string together complete sentences yet (although he definitely seemed to be adapting - hell, all he had done for the first few hours when Wade found him was hiss in fear and bite Wade's arm when he tried to pick him up. That little trick put the merc through some kind of fast-forward of ugly fever symptoms before the healing factor had fixed him up new.)</p><p>In which Peter is literally a spider-turned-human and Wade is along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Peter walks into the room without a stitch of clothing on and glares down at the man reclining at the kitchen table.

Wade grins against a half-empty can of beer and looks him over. "Well hello."

" _Webs._ " Peter grinds out in a hard, angry voice, pointing stiffly into the opposite room. The motion is twitchy and awkward, only serving to remind them both that he is, by far, still not comfortable in his human body. 

Wade downs the rest of his beer, tosses the can aside without seeing where it lands, and gives Peter his most innocent look. Peter makes a noise of frustration and repeats the motion angrily. " _Webs!_ " he hisses again.

"I took a feather duster to them." Wade says serenely. "And by feather duster I mean I melted them down with acid. That shit's not cheap, you know, you owe me." A twitchy shiver visibly rocks through the other, as if it's taking all of his will power not to wring his hands around Wade's neck. "They were blocking the path to the kitchen and there's a New Year's cake in the fridge, okay? You can't deny a man his double chocolate mix."

 _At least he's walking on two legs this time,_ a voice reminds him wryly. _This could be twice as uncomfortable and you know it._

_Define 'uncomfortable.' I'm actually enjoying myself here._

It's been less than a week since Wade came home to find the genetically altered spider he had nabbed from Oscorp missing, the glass cage broken, and a sticky-looking boy who looked to be in his teens shivering in it's place. Wade had known the little bug wasn't exactly normal, but the infiltration had been easy, stealing the thing had been child's play, and he had been quoted a very pleasing cash reward in exchange. Apparently some weirdos felt 'entitled' to the new species, which was said to be a 'valuable key in solving the riddle of mankind's shortcomings.' Whatever. Wade was promised a million bucks for a spider and now all he had was some freaky kid who kept scaling the walls and couldn't even string together complete sentences yet (although he definitely seemed to be adapting - hell, all he had done for the first few hours when Wade found him was hiss in fear and bite Wade's arm when he tried to pick him up. That little trick put the merc through some kind of fast-forward of ugly fever symptoms before the healing factor had fixed him up new.)

Now Peter bares his teeth, which earns a disturbed hunch from Wade. That kid has one freaky mouth, with teeth that come to a slight point and two canines that curve slightly like some kind of exotic fangs. Which is exactly what they are, really. The sight makes the touch of arousal Wade has been feeling (because hello, smoking hot body naked in his living room) simmer down considerably. 

Peter must notice, because his lips go thin and his shoulders slump and he only just starts to look human again. "Leave my webs..." he bitches again, annoyed.

"Uh, excuse me, but this is my house! I'm the master here!"

"My...!"

"You pay the rent, then maybe you can start bossing me around, spider-boy." Peter bares his teeth again, threatened. Wade flicks him off, which makes him narrow his eyes. He doesn't know the gesture, but he knows enough of Wade to get that it's a rude one. "Also, if you don't put some pants on then I call rights to break out the camera. I'm not kidding, your scrawny ass will be _all over_ Facebook and I won't be the least bit sorry."

Not that the kid even knew what Facebook was. He gets an eye roll for his trouble before Peter stalks off in the opposite direction. Probably to go build his more giant fucking webs around the house again, because the brat doesn't learn his lesson. Seriously, what does he expect to get from them anyway? Gigantic mutant flies?

 _One million dollars from the drain._ Not to mention Peter had been much more manageable as a spider.

Maybe not as hard to catch, though. Peter's _fast._ Super-power type fast. His bite wasn't anything to laugh at, either. Who knew? Maybe with a little luck he could get a freaky side-kick out of this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter liked him better when he was still a spider, and Wade was just a vague shape in the distance outside his cage.

"The name's Wade." was his introduction, but from that moment on he kept referring to himself as 'Deadpool.'

Peter just called him 'Dead' for the first couple of days, then switched to 'Wade' just for the sake of avoiding arguments. He was quickly deciding that he disliked this human. He was loud, he tended to invade every inch of territory no matter how much Peter stubbornly pushed back, and most annoyingly of all, he kept stomping his boots around the house just because he _knew_ the impacts would make Peter flinch away with fright.

Peter liked him better when he was still a spider, and Wade was just a vague shape in the distance outside his cage.

It's early morning when Wade announces that he's going shopping, fails to explain what shopping _is_ , and then vanishes into thin air. Peter spends a great deal of the precious time that he's gone trying to construct a new web. He's absolutely famished, something that's unbearably distracting in this human body. Maybe if he's lucky, he'll finally catch something to eat.

It takes much more effort now to build a web: the strands of silk draw from his wrists, and the construction is painstakingly slow. He finds himself tearing each attempt down with a frustrated hiss until his arms are aching almost as fiercely as his stomach.

It's a godsend when a grasshopper lazily creeps up the windowsill. Peter has to double take to really recognize the creature - it's so _tiny_ now, so much less intimidating without the looming twitch of it's poised legs and glassy pin eyes.

Impulsively, he holds his hand out and tosses a line of web. It sticks to the window, catching the grasshopper in the progress, and Peter has to tug and tug to pull the line free and reel it back in. He's never caught prey like this before. It almost feels like cheating.

Instinct says to wrap it up fast, but tugging more silk from his wrists isn't helping. With his new, greater size, the lines of web lay messily. He needs to practice. If only he had something big, something more proportionate, he could spin a nice cocoon around it and get some of his natural footing back.

But there's no time for that. He raises the struggling grasshopper to his mouth, and in the blink of an eye, a strong, rough hand has wrapped tight around his naked forearm. Peter looks up into the black-and-white markings that make up Wade's revolted face.

"That is just _sick_ , Spider-dude."

Peter narrows his eyes. " _Hungry._ " he explains tightly, coiling down into a crouch as if read to spring for attack. Wade can't take this away from him.

"I'm _really_ getting sick of washing puke out of my mask. Did you even consider that before you went trying to stuff bugs in your face?" 

His grip squeezes tight. Peter gasps in surprise, trying to pull back, and the grasshopper falls to the ground in a tangle of web. 

It's the last straw - he's so exhausted, so famished, so tired and so _confused_ , that before he can even think of retreating, he's tackled Wade to the floor. He lands in a pile of crinkly white bags, Peter on top of him, and he's just locked his bare legs tight around the human and picked out a good, soft place to bite when something _explodes_ right next to his head and sends a shock of terror crashing through him.

Wade flips them over in a heartbeat, pins Peter down like a butterfly when he tries to curl up in fear. Something solid and cold presses painfully hard under his jaw, forcing his head back. And suddenly _he's_ the prey, he's the insect caught in a web.

Instinctual fear crashes over him in waves, so fast and so insistently that he doesn't hear what's being said to him until Wade's already been ranting for some time.

"...was out of my _own pay,_ and the whole spider-man freak thing is a pretty neat twist, okay, I admit, but if you can't behave you're going in _the Box_ and I'll just-"

Peter stops struggling. The thing under his jaw goes away. Wade leans over him easily and picks something up from out of the scattered white bags. 

" _This_ is food. Not fucking grasshoppers, okay? Open up." He waves the item in front of Peter's eyes. It's round and red and definitely not alive. "Come on, open up, take a bite. It's good!"

Peter squirms, but Wade's so aggressive with his apparent 'food' that there's really no choice but to try and sink his fangs into it. Sharp flavor floods his mouth, but his stomach seems pleased with it, so he swallows.

"That's called a _to-ma-to._ " Wade spells out slowly. "You put them in tacos. Wait till you try a taco, Spider-dude, that's one of life's great joys."

He eases up on Peter until his upper body is free, then sits back and starts picking more ingredients up off the floor to feed him. Peter's too grateful for sustenance to hate him now, greedily taking bites straight from Wade's hands.

His stomach gradually stops it's stubborn aching. It's nice, so nice that he forgets his annoyance with Wade until the other man pipes up: "You know, usually I don't feed taco ingredients to naked hotties until _after_ I'm asleep..."

Peter stares at him, feeling suddenly out of place and uncomfortable. An odd, heated feeling creeps up under his skin. He's not sure what his human body is doing now, but somehow he knows that Wade's tone of voice is to blame.

"Whoa, are you _blushing_?" The tone kicks up a notch - it's almost pure glee.

Come to think of it, Wade's about the perfect size to wrap up in a cocoon, isn't he? It'd be great practice.

"Wh - dude, don't glare at me like that. Nothing personal, just - you know, _pants_ might be a good idea if you're not willing to hear -"

"Hmph." Peter mumbles, and reaches for another tomato.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which domestic life requires some negotiation.

Wade props his feet up, ticks his dirty flatscreen up to full volume, and sinks his teeth into a well-deserved chimichanga. 

From the top right-hand corner of the room, Peter squints dubiously down at him and tries to copy the motion. He's upside-down, legs crossed, the soles of his feet sticking neatly to the angles of the wall. Wade had thought it was funny at first, expecting to see his face slowly go scarlet with blood, but it's been a couple of hours already and Peter still looks like he couldn't be more comfortable.

Except maybe if he were naked again. He's wearing a pair of Wade's old sweatpants now, and they're practically hanging off him, despite the fact that he's all but glued them around his hips with tangles and loops of sticky web. Now he swats at them every so often with his open palms, looking revolted, and Wade's starting to think he should be offended when he starts clamping a hand over his nose between bites of food.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, little miss priss. I _washed_ them." 

Even though he can't really remember if that's true.

_(Probably not. Since when it's laundry a priority?)_

_(Since the flies started coming in, maybe.)_

"But bug-face here _likes_ flies." Wade argues aloud, gesturing with a half-eaten burrito for emphasis. "So I'm actually doing him a favor."

Peter scrunches up his nose and cocks his head questioningly. "What?" He deadpans. It's a word he's grown really fond of, calling it out every few minutes when something eludes him. Wade's pretty sure he's demanded _what?_ towards almost every item in the house now, pointing around everywhere with all the impatience of a creature that once had eight legs and now has to settle for two.

"I said you _like flies!_ " he has to shout over the television. Peter rubs at his ears and scowls back at him, annoyed. 

True, they've been co-existing with a surprising lack of bloodshed, but Peter pushes his boundaries constantly by being so _ridiculously_ curious - _all the damn time_. Wade's already found him picking apart various items - not weapons, though, because he still seems pretty spooked from that time Wade fired a .45 next to his head - but only yesterday he was trying to take apart the microwave and damn it, Wade _needs_ that thing, the lives a thousand precious leftovers count on it.

"Too loud." Peter sulks, gesturing stiffly. His voice is easily overridden by a commercial for some flowery shampoo, advertized by a busty blonde who insists it's 'the best hair-care experience money can buy.'

_(Ha, good luck with that -- we're bald!)_

"LOUD!" Peter shrieks at him through the din.

"What's that, Spidey? Didn't hear you."

A look of grim determination sets over Peter's fanged mouth as he quickly webs up the rest of his chimichanga for storage. Wade squints at him as he crawls across the opposite wall, defying all logic and gravity with the sticky pads of his hands and feet. Then, wordlessly, he raps his knuckles hard against the side of the flatscreen, coming to settle on the extra speaker system.

"Hey!" Wade sits up. _Seriously?_ "Hands off my baby!"

The little freak actually _shushes_ him, a noise more threatening and impatient than soothing. He presses his head closer to a speaker, listening, then winces, apparently confirming his suspicions about the noise's source. Wade flies to his feet as Peter moves, lightening-fast, drawing line after line of web from his wrists to layer the sound system beneath.

_Nooooo!_ cries a pitiful, tragic voice in Wade's head, and he darts forward to seize Peter by the wrists - because goddamn it that stuff is _tough_ , he needed acid to melt the last couple of webs and that's not something a piece of tech is going to be able to withstand. Peter tries to jerk his hands away with effort, then glares and bares his teeth in a feral display. Already, the television noises come out muffled.

" _Need_ to -- you -- _crazy._ " Peter hisses up at him, not without some fear. But Wade can tell he's made up his mind, apparently hellbent on destroying his nice, relaxing, hard-earned afternoon.

_(He's got our baby!)_ comes a helpful reminder. Indeed, the flatscreen's going to be next the second Wade lets go of his wrists....

_(Hostage! Hostage! Do what he says!)_

"Okay! Shit. I'll turn it down." Wade grumbles, whipping around to grab the remote. Peter narrows his eyes as his hand is released, rubbing at his wrist sorely, still poised around the gauzy stereo. The stiff angles of his body relax somewhat as Wade ticks the volume down until it's nearly muted.

All at once it's like he's flipped a switch, and Peter's face melts into something serene and surprisingly apologetic. " _Oh,_ " he says thankfully, softening.

"I sense a giant boot in your future." Wade warns him. And Peter - Jesus, Peter just _smiles_ at him, an odd mix of creepy fangs paired with pretty blue eyes, looking blissful in the new-found quiet.

"Better," he sighs.

"Goddamn...spiders...." Wade kicks his feet back up sorely and begins to channel-flip. The way Peter flinches back at the flickering images is only a small pleasure, but he'll take what he can get.


End file.
